A Time for Understanding
by Iheartbd's
Summary: Five years after the battle at Camlann, Camelot the crown jewel of a shining Albion. Magic is free, and peace presides. But when Arthur is involved in an accident that leaves him with no memory of Camelot's new golden age, will Merlin regain his trust in time to save the kingdom from itself? Post series AU.


**After watching the Merlin final and staring in shock, I decided I had to fix it. Not that I didn't like the final, it was what it needed to be for the series, but it wasn't what ****_I _****needed it to be, hence the fix it fanfiction. This is my first attempt at Merlin fanfiction, so I'm struggling a bit with characterization, so if anyone has any pointers, leave a review? Also, ignore my lack of knowledge when it comes to middle age medicine. I have no idea if they even knew what a concussion was, so...**

***To Clarify* Everything that happened up to Arthur's passing out/dying in the field in the final is cannon, but the rest of the episode is not. **

_Arthur wasn't sure he had ever felt pain quite so intense in his life. He had endured years of the soreness and bruises left from training, the discomfort of broken bones and concussions, and even the exquisite torture of a slow death from the questing beast, and yet he had nothing to compare to the agony which currently spread through his side like fire. Unlike any stab wound he had had before, he could feel the hot burn of the broken sword inside him, forcing its way steadily up towards his heart. The pain made him dizzy, despite the fact he was sitting down; he couldn't think, he couldn't breathe. _

_Arthur thought he could hear Morgana's voice above the annoying ringing in his ears; even more annoying that Merlin's obnoxious voice rousing him in the mornings. He frowned. Where was Merlin? Had his lazy servant gone to get him breakfast? He thought he should be hungry, but maybe that was the pain, hollowing out his stomach and sitting there like a coiled snake. But no, there was Merlin, standing behind Morgana holding a sword, with a look on his face that unsettled Arthur to no end. _

_He tried to ask Merlin what he was doing, but the pain had snatched his vocal chords and refused to give them back. What did Merlin think a sword would do against Morgana, a known sorcerer-_

_Sorcerer. The word made Arthur want to hurl as he remembered what it now meant. Merlin was a _sorcerer. _A traitor who had hidden amongst them for years, consumed by the evils of magic; but that wasn't right. Merlin couldn't be evil, could he? Sweet, innocent Merlin. And yet, he had been taken in by Morgana, had not realized her corruption until too late. The thoughts confused him to no end, the pain making it difficult to focus, so he let them slowly drift away and turned his mind to other things._

_The blade pierced Morgana, a righteous Merlin looking down in pity before rushing to Arthur's side. A giggle almost escaped against his will; the hilarity of the thought of Merlin of all people saving him was so foreign, but it died on his lips as he realized that this no doubt wasn't the first, second, or even third time Merlin had killed to save his life. _

_"Brought peace at last," Arthur said, to redirect his train of thought._

_"Come on," Merlin replied. Arthur stared into his eyes and saw the intense guilt hidden there. It suddenly occurred to him that Merlin felt responsible for the death of Morgana, as unfounded as it was. Arthur himself had killed countless in the name of Camelot, often for far less reason. He wanted to say something, anything, to show Merlin he wasn't to blame, but suddenly he was being hauled to his feet and the resulting wave of pain blocked out all coherent thought from his mind._

_The agony continued as Arthur was pulled along by a frantic Merlin until he could no longer take it and collapsed heavily to the ground. _

_"We have to make it to the lake," Merlin implored tugging at his arm._

_"Merlin..." Arthur sighed. "Not without the horses. We can't. It's too late. It's too..." He trailed off, unsure as to where the rest of the thought was going. A laugh bubbled up inside. "All your magic, Merlin, and you can't save my life." _

_"I can. I'm not going to lose you." Arthur could feel the desperation in Merlin's voice, and yet he knew the promises were empty. As loath as he was to giving up, he knew there was nothing to be done, and he wanted to spend the last bit of his life with someone who cared about him, even with the recent rift between them caused from Merlin's magic._

_"Just- Just... Just hold me. Please." Arthur was surprised by the words coming out of his mouth. He didn't think he had ever sincerely said 'please' to Merlin, and yet... And yet it seemed right, that he would by lying on this empty clearing, spending the last of his life in the arms of his servant. A humble end to a great king. "There's... there's so- there's something I want to say." Arthur had to struggle to get the words out, his strength leaving him surprisingly quickly._

_"You're not going to say goodbye." Merlin said, voice wavering. Though it had been a statement, Arthur could hear the underlying plea in his voice._

_"No." Arthur assured him. "Merlin. Everything you've done. I know now. For me, for Camelot." He tried to find the words he wanted, the words that were failing him as he tried to voice exactly what he wanted to say. "For the kingdom you helped me build."_

_"You'd have done it without me," Merlin whispered. The thought was incredulous. Arthur could think of the multitude of ways Merlin had changed his way of thinking, even without Arthur realizing it. He was the person he was today because of Merlin's guidance. _

_"Maybe," Arthur replied. "I want to say something I've never said to you before." What could he say? I'm sorry? It's okay? He wanted to say those things to Merlin, wanted to assure him, but they weren't true. Despite how much he had come to realize Merlin might not be completely evil because of his magic, he still couldn't say that he trusted Merlin, that he looked at him the same way before. He realized that was what Merlin needed him to say, but he couldn't lie. Not in his last words to him._

_Suddenly the answer came to him. "Thank you." It was so simple, and yet it summed up exactly what he needed to say to Merlin that he had never said before. And then, having said what he needed to, it was only too easy to close his eyes and let himself drift away, pain first becoming a distant memory, and then everything else as he welcomed the dark._

...

"Arthur. Arthur, come on, wake up. I know for a fact you have a thicker skull than that."

A voice woke Arthur from the haze he was drifting in. His eyes cracked, taking in the blur around him until he finally recognized it to be his chambers in Camelot. He frowned. Was this what the afterlife was? More of the same?

A hand smacked his face, rousing him further. "Come on, I can't treat you while you're unresponsive." He recognized the chipper voice of his manservant, waking him as he always did in the mornings. Well, if this was death, he wanted no part in it. Who in their right mind brought annoying servants to the afterlife?

"I'm dead," he stated, as if to see whether or not anyone would reject his statement.

"Well, you might wish you were once you have to deal with Gwen," Merlin's voice laughed. "Come on, open your eyes, I have to check for concussion."

The word concussion alerted Arthur to the throbbing in his head, something he hadn't noticed earlier. Well, maybe he wasn't dead. No heaven would have both concussions and infuriating manservants. Or maybe he was in hell. He had probably done enough in his life to deserve it.

Arthur's eyes finally obeyed his commands to focus, allowing him to look up at the halo of black hair and smiling face above him. He frowned; something wasn't right.

The face above him was definitely Merlin's, the unique blue eyes made that obvious. But his black hair had grown, now hanging down shaggily around his ears. A pale jagged scar ran the length of one of his cheekbones, which had now filled out, giving his face a more rounded appearance than before. And most noticeably, his clothing had changed. Instead of the coarse fabric peasant's clothes he normally wore, he was clad in higher quality fabric, the kind associated with upper class families. His neckerchief was gone, instead replaced with a red cloak of Camelot similar to the ones knights wore, but adorned not only with the crest of Camelot but also a curvy triangular symbol associated with the Druid people. Not only that, but his countenance had changed. He seemed more confident in the way he held himself. He looked... older.

Arthur tried to sum that up in one sentence. "What happened to you?"

"Me?" Merlin chuckled. "Nothing. What worries me is what happened to you. You just had to step into a situation I had entirely under control and jack it up. As always."

Arthur frowned, trying to take that it. What had he done? Nothing made sense. He had been dying. He should be dead. Why wasn't he dead? What had Merlin done? Before he could pose any of these questions, however, Merlin began speaking again.

"Okay, I think you have a concussion. It's not that bad, so I should be able to try some of the healing arts I've been working of. You don't mind, do you?" Merlin looked up hopefully thorough the fringe of hair hanging in his face. Apparently, he took Arthur's look of utter confusion as one of acceptance of whatever Merlin was planning, as his face lit up brightly.

"Okay. Remember, you have to let me in. Don't fight it." A look of utter concentration came over Merlin's face. **_"_**_Bebiede þe arisan ealdu. Áblinnen." _ Arthur felt a soft tingling race over his skin, prodding at him until solidifying into a single point before slowly sinking into his skull. The feeling wasn't unpleasant; in fact, it was almost rejuvenating, taking away aches and pains where ever it touched, but the alien feel made him push it away instinctively. He knew it was Merlin's magic, the feel of it so incredibly him. Now that he could identify it, he realized he had felt it countless times before, and was almost insulted he hadn't figured out the sorcerer's secret earlier.

Above him, Merlin made a noise of discomfort, eyes screwing up as if to keep a headache at bay. Suddenly, the feeling was gone, as was any discomfort he had grown to associate with concussion. Merlin went limp before his eyes snapped open and he grinned brightly.

"I did it!" he exclaimed. "No thanks to you," he glowered, "you were fighting me at every turn. Skull injuries are hard to heal in the first place, and you nearly made it impossible." Confused at Arthur's disapproving look, Merlin pouted. "What, aren't you proud? You know how hard I've been working on the healing arts lately."

"You have magic," Arthur said bluntly, giving no sign of the internal battle that statement caused him. Merlin frowned.

"Well yeah, I think we've established that. How hard did you hit you head?"

Arthur didn't remember having hit his head before collapsing, but it would explain his confusion. Perhaps there was some simple, rational explanation for why Merlin looked the way he did and was addressing him with such nonchalance about his magic, and Arthur's brain was too addled to make that connection. He didn't think that was it, however.

"How did you save me?" Arthur asked. He decided that the simplest and most important question should be the one he asked first.

Merlin frowned. "Arthur, you were never in danger of dying. What you did was stupid, sure, but not life threatening. You should have let me handle it to begin with, but I managed to get them off you with no problem before they did any serious damage. You think I can't hold by own against a few rebels?"

Rebels? Arthur couldn't remember any rebels, and he knew, _knew for a fact, _that he had been dying. He had felt the life leave him. Whatever Merlin had done to save him, it hadn't been any simple magic, and if Arthur knew anything about the Old Religion, it was the more complicated the magic, the darker and bigger sacrifice required to fulfill it.

"Merlin, stop playing stupid. I was dying. There was a piece of sword stuck in my side, and I was _dying._ I was okay with it. So what did you do? What was the price? You have to tell me, Merlin," Arthur implored.

Merlin froze. "Arthur... you aren't- aren't..." he trailed off. "Arthur, what's the last thing you remember?" he asked desperately.

"We were in a field, and I was dying," he said slowly, not sure what Merlin was getting at. The warlock stared at him, not moving an inch. "Merlin? What's wrong?" he asked, worried.

Merlin's eyes were panicked, though the rest of his face betrayed no other emotion. Finally, he exhaled, looking up at the ceiling as if it held some answer to the solving obvious distress he was in now.

"We have a problem."

**First chapter! Yay! Almost half was a flashback, but I promise it will pick up soon. The healing spell is the one used to get the beetle out of Uther's head, which I know isn't very fitting for the situation at hand, but I figured it was a head infliction in both cases, so close enough. I promise things will make more sense soon!**

**Until next time!**

**~Iheartbd's**


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